


I Do What I Can

by Verasteine



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-02
Updated: 2009-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:52:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto Jones could have lived his whole life very happily without the adrenaline and adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Do What I Can

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://madtheo.livejournal.com/profile)[**madtheo**](http://madtheo.livejournal.com/) and [](http://thaddeusfavour.livejournal.com/profile)[**thaddeusfavour**](http://thaddeusfavour.livejournal.com/) for the beta. You guys rock!

> _And he says  
> I do what I can  
> I work for a living  
> And that's who I am_

_In the end, Gwen will survive them all_, Ianto thinks one day, as he watches her move around the hub. It's her practiced confidence; the familiar routines that she executes with enough attention and devotion to never let the familiarity draw her away from focus. She loads firearms with that precision, down in the shooting range or in the vault, when they prepare for yet another close encounter.

He shakes it off and continues putting coffee in the machine -- tapping the measuring spoon against the container so he will add the exact amount of grounds to make a perfect cup. His own attention to detail is compulsive, and occasionally saves lives, but he will never learn the routines like Gwen has. He'll never learn to love, thrive on the routines, thrive on the adrenaline, the danger, the adventure that both she and Jack love and adore.

Ianto could have lived his whole life very happily without the adrenaline and adventure.

He doubts he could live without what it brought him. Lisa and Jack -- the romantic entanglements of his adult life have inexplicably been connected to the deadliest job he'll ever hold, and that twist of fate that shaped his destiny makes him believe in Irony as a deity, from time to time.

Tosh stops by the coffee maker and asks in a low tone if he'd mind making her tea; she's had enough caffeine for the day. Ianto shakes off his morbid thoughts and speaks his assent with a smile.

\--

Ianto sets the table while Jack unpacks the take-away. He is aware of Jack speaking to him, and tries to answer yes and no at the appropriate moments. They sit down across from each other.

"You're moody today," Jack says, tone accusatory, although he tries to disguise it with cheerfulness. By now, Ianto knows him too well.

"Moody?" he repeats.

"Thoughtful," Jack amends.

"I can be like that, from time to time," Ianto agrees, and chews his Szechuan pork slowly.

Jack puts his knife down on his plate and picks up his glass to take a sip of water. When he's put the glass down, he doesn't pick the utensil up again. He says, "I don't have to be here."

"No," Ianto agrees.

Jack sits quietly for a few seconds. Ianto doesn't look up, but spears another piece of meat and drags it through the sauce on his plate before putting it in his mouth and chewing. It's a bit overcooked. Maybe they should try a different takeaway next time.

Jack moves his chair back and tosses his napkin onto his plate with a harsh flick of his wrist. "I'm going. See you tomorrow."

Ianto doesn't quite wake from his reverie until the front door slams and the flat is still.

\--

The next morning is awkward, because he doesn't know what to do with it. And it won't be a big deal, even though with Lisa it would have been a screaming fight, and sweets or flowers and promises about holidays. Or she would have fussed, asked him what was wrong and talked about understanding that he needed space. He doesn't expect that either will happen with Jack, but it was harder to fall asleep than he thought it should have been, the previous night, and he lay staring at his ceiling.

Jack takes his morning coffee from Ianto's hand without a word, just a brief glance and a quick smile. Ianto smiles back but knows it's absent.

Gwen asks him if he's all right at her ten am coffee break. She chews on a mini kitkat that she's ferreted out from one of the kitchenette cupboards and says, "You don't seem yourself today."

"Couldn't sleep," Ianto replies, and smiles at her, too.

"In this job," Gwen answers, then leaves the rest of the sentence hanging in the air. "When Rhys can't sleep, he likes audio books," she adds after a beat. "Says there's nothing like some English git droning on in the same tone to send him off. I sleep pretty soundly, usually, so I've never tested it."

Ianto takes Gwen's unsolicited advice in his stride and thanks her. He makes a mental note to stop at the book shop. Maybe it'll help.

\--

Three nights of staring at the ceiling follow, and not a word from Jack about the fact that the rift's been quiet but they haven't taken advantage of that down time. Ianto's heard all of _The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time_ and is working his way through _The Railway Children_, with no drowsiness in sight.

During the day, he finds he has an increasing tendency to space out. He also finds you can do menial tasks on autopilot and don't really need to concentrate for them. It's amazing how much you can achieve while sleep-deprived. He starts taking the bus to work, though.

Jack still gives him that same smile when he hands over the man's morning coffee, and for a brief moment, Ianto questions Jack's sanity. Then he questions his own.

\--

_Owen will be the first to go_, he realises when Gwen and Owen come back from artefact retrieval with Owen limping and bleeding. Jack is out of his office like a shot, helping Owen down the stairs to the medical bay and carefully following Owen's instructions on how to remove the metal shards from the medic's own ankle. Ianto turns away when he can see where the metal has penetrated to the bone.

He doesn't know how long passes until a strong grip on his bicep forces the grey in front of his eyes to recede, but when it clears, Tosh is gripping his arm, pulling him away from the med bay. She leads him to the sofa and tells him to put his head between his knees. Only when he complies does he feel the blood rushing back to his brain. "Deep breaths," Tosh says, as Gwen asks, "What's wrong with him?"

"I'm fine," Ianto answers her, waving an only slightly trembling hand in the direction of her voice. "It's nothing."

Hot sugary tea and thirty minutes' rest allow him to resume his duties.

\--

Then the headaches strike. Day five, it creeps up on him slowly, and by the end of the day his forehead is pounding and he's starting to feel sick. He drags himself home to lie in his bed without eating, curtains pulled against the light coming in, muscles too clenched and head throbbing too much to allow the rest he now truly _craves_ with every fibre.

He sleeps.

He wakes with the same nagging pain, and takes aspirin with breakfast. The relief it provides lasts him till two pm.

\--

"Ianto!"

He prays he doesn't have to get up for whatever it is Tosh is hollering at him for, because he doubts he could do so without throwing up. He's wondering if he could walk over to Jack's office to ask for a sick day, or if he should spare himself that journey and just hobble down to Owen's bay instead. Either journey seems beyond him. "Yes," he answers.

"Can you hand me that probe?"

He looks at Tosh's outstretched hand, follows her pointing finger, and retrieves the tool. When he stretches, Tosh can just take it from his hand. She smiles when their eyes meet. "Late night last night?" she asks. "You look like the day's catching up with you a little early."

Her kind tone causes a lump in his throat. He nods and she turns back to her desk, entranced by her project. He stands slowly, shakily, waits for the pounding in his head to settle to a dull rhythm, and begins to walk. Near Gwen's desk, he's forced to a decision. He turns right.

\--

Jack looks up when he comes in, smiles, and Ianto tries to return that smile, but his muscles refuse cooperation. He pulls up one of the spare chairs Jack keeps in his office and sits down heavily.

"I need to go home," he says.

Jack frowns. "You've been out of it a bit lately. Feeling under the weather?"

_Like death warmed over_. "Yes," Ianto says. "I've not been sleeping well."

Jack gets up, comes around the desk and puts a hand to Ianto's forehead, like when he was thirteen and his mother tried to assure herself he wasn't trying to bunk off school for no good reason. Jack's fingers are warm and soothing against the dull pounding, and he must have made a noise when Jack starts withdrawing the touch because he's putting his hand back. A few fingers slide into Ianto's hair.

"What's going on, Ianto?"

"Headache," he says, looking up at Jack and feeling ridiculously needy. "Just let me go home, Jack, please."

"Of course."

The hand against his skin disappears, and this time he really whimpers. Jack frowns briefly, then Ianto has to shut his eyes against the nauseous roll of his stomach. He hears Jack's shirt rustle as he moves, then feels Jack's lips press against his forehead. "Go get some rest," Jack says in a low voice. "We can manage without you for a bit."

Ianto has enough dignity left to suppress the sob in his chest.

\--

At home, it's more darkness and lying still so he won't jostle any part of him that wants rest. Rest that his body doesn't seem willing to provide. His eyes ache, burn, even with his eyelids closed, and he can't seem to find a position that keeps his head from pounding.

More aspirin lets him rest for a few blissful hours.

\--

When he wakes, the headache has receded somewhat; if he doesn't try and get up, he'll be fine. He turns his head a little to squint at the clock, and sees Jack sitting on the foot end of the bed. His body can't even muster a startled response.

Jack reaches out and lays a hand on his leg over the covers. "Hey."

"How long have you been there?" Ianto asks.

"A little under an hour," Jack replies.

"What time is it?"

"Sometime after three am." Jack's hand pats his leg. "I was worried."

_I'm okay_ would be a ridiculous reply. Ianto refuses to let it come out of his mouth. "It's just a headache."

"I know," says Jack.

There's silence between them for a while.

Ianto breaks it by saying, "Why did we stop?"

Jack looks startled. "Did we stop?"

"You didn't-- and I didn't--" Ianto tries to find the words. "Neither of us said anything any more. We just-- stopped."

Jack laughs briefly. "It was only a week."

"Yes," Ianto says, and shifts painfully. It was only a week. His heart thumps in his chest.

"You seemed to need space," Jack continues. "I don't know what was going on with you, but you seemed to need some time. I thought you'd come back when you'd sorted through it."

Ianto wants to ask what _it_ is. "Oh."

"You got sick instead."

Ianto struggles up, pressing a hand to his forehead to ward off the pounding. Jack's hand moves from his leg and Jack shifts further up the bed. "Hey," he says softly, pulling Ianto's hand away and replacing it with one of his own. He runs his fingers into Ianto's hair again, gently rubbing his scalp. "Easy." Ianto sobs softly, half in relief and half in pain. Jack gathers him close. "What's going on with you, hmm?"

The next morning he wakes up as he must have fallen asleep; sitting up against the headboard with his back against Jack's chest and Jack's arms wrapped around his waist.

\--

Gwen challenges Owen to a game of basketball, and Ianto watches as first Tosh and then Jack get roped in. Gwen looks around and hollers for him to join in, but Ianto shakes his head, content at the sidelines.

The hub isn't really made for basketball, and Gwen nearly trips over a loose cable. Ianto stares for a moment at the ledge she would have hit going down. But Gwen seems unaffected, already spinning out of Tosh's reach, who careens into a desk trying to keep up.

Jack passes the ball to Gwen, bouncing it right in front of Owen, whose reflexes are too slow to catch it. The medic swears loudly as Gwen pushes off with one foot and executes a perfect layup, dumping the ball in the net. Jack sweeps her off her feet and spins her around in a hug. They all laugh, and Ianto laughs with them, shivering.

\--

Jack calls him into his office as Gwen and Tosh are leaving for the day. Ianto fetches coffee on autopilot and Jack smiles as he hands him the mug.

"How are you?"

"Better for having a good night's sleep," Ianto replies, taking a seat.

Jack sips his coffee slowly. "Good. Think you'll sleep tonight?"

Ianto shrugs, mostly out of ignorance. "Hopefully."

Jack puts the mug on his desk. "Ianto..."

"Would you like to have dinner? My place?" Ianto says abruptly.

Jack blinks. "Sure. Seven?"

Ianto smiles. "I'll get the food."

\--

He lays the table with his trademark precision, and Jack smiles when he comes in. The food is from China Palace this time, and Ianto opens the hot containers carefully.

"So, the Xantoffels sent a message of thanks just after you left," Jack says, heaping a spoonful of rice onto his plate. "I'm glad they're out of our hair."

"Me, too," Ianto replies.

"They come around every ten years or so. Always sending their ridiculous 'developmental scientists'."

Ianto nods. "You mentioned that."

Jack puts his fork down. "Ianto, I don't want to intrude, but..."

"I know." Ianto takes a sip of water, hesitates, and puts his own cutlery down, too. "I don't know what's going on, Jack."

Jack frowns slightly. "Should I get Owen to take a look at you?"

His concern is genuine and all the more touching for it. "No," Ianto replies decisively. He lets his eyes wander over the wall behind Jack. "It's something I have to deal with. I have a grasp of it, I just..." He trails off.

"Stop," Jack says, voice wavering.

Ianto meets his eyes. "I don't want this either, Jack."

"I know that." Jack runs a hand through his hair. "But will you talk to me?"

"Yes," Ianto says instantly, and blinks at not having to think about that answer.

\--

"I don't want to lose anyone else," he tells Jack while he's washing the dishes. Somehow, it's easier to talk when his hands are doing something and he doesn't have to face Jack. "I can't lose anyone else."

Jack's hand rests momentarily on the small of his back. "I know."

The pain of loss is so clear in Jack's voice, and Ianto has to force himself to keep talking. "It's so easy. For people to die. For things to change. For--" He swallows hard. "Jack--" The sponge slides out of his fingers and plops into the water. Ianto stares at it as it sinks, slowly.

Jack's arms slide around him after a few beats, and Jack turns him around until Ianto can bury his face against Jack's neck. It's never a release to cry; it brings the misery to the forefront, and he doesn't want it, but the tears force their way past and he's a little grateful for the support.

"I'm sorry," Jack whispers in his hair, and Ianto knows he's crying, too. "I'm so sorry. If I could go back..."

He lets Jack hold him and tell him excuses and he knows that, for both of them, the past can't be changed.

"You've got to find a way to live in the now," Jack says a while later, and Ianto wants to tell him those words are too simple. But truly, when he thinks about it, he knows he can't lecture Jack on coping.

"I know," he answers instead.

"I have faith in you," Jack continues. "And I'm here, okay?"

Ianto nods. He can believe it, here, in Jack's arms, safely tucked away.

"I'll be here," Jack whispers above him.

Ianto draws on that. "I know," he says again, and Jack's embrace tightens around him.

\--  
_finis._


End file.
